Mr. Hotshot CEO Read online

  The kiss tastes like chocolate chip cookies and butter and her...and that’s the best part, finally being able to taste her after a weekend in her presence.

  “Julian,” she groans.

  She’s said my name many times before, but never like this.

  I fit my hands under her ass and pick her up. She clings to me as I walk to the couch and sit down, kissing her the whole time. I slide my lips to the underside of her jaw and plant open-mouthed kisses there. Her lips are parted in pleasure and her eyes are shut. Oh, God.

  Her hands slip under my shirt and up my chest; she murmurs in appreciation.

  “Yes,” I whisper, cupping her cheeks then sliding my fingers into her hair, which I’ve been longing to touch for ages. I tip her mouth to mine again and slant my lips over hers, taking and giving all that I can, trying to get closer and closer, overjoyed that I finally have this woman in my arms. She’s a passionate kisser, as I knew she would be.

  Ding! Ding!

  What the fuck is that? Whatever it is, it won’t make me stop kissing Courtney.

  I press her against me, her breasts squeezed between us, and oh, those should definitely be bare right now.

  I’m bunching up the bottom of her shirt when I hear that blasted sound again.

  Ding! Ding!

  “It’s the oven timer.” She sounds a bit dazed. “We need to take the cookies out.”

  Dammit, why did we decide to make cookies?

  But I shouldn’t complain because the cookie dough led to our kiss.

  Courtney jumps up. She takes the pans out of the oven and lets the cookies cool for a couple minutes before using a spatula to put them on the wire rack.

  “We’ll let them cool a little longer,” she says, wiping her hands. “Then we can eat them. The danger of baking is that you’re tempted to eat too many at once, but—”

  “Courtney,” I interrupt. “I want you in my bed tonight.”

  Chapter 12

  Courtney

  Julian kissed me senseless, so senseless that I’m considering going to his bed right this minute. That’s the only thing I crave right now—not the chocolate chip cookies cooling on the rack, but him. Although I’ve felt sexually frustrated in the past few years, I haven’t craved being with a man until now.

  But Julian is special.

  And if I go to bed with him, it will get even worse.

  If I weren’t approaching the five-year mark, if I weren’t convinced my descent into depression would begin any day, maybe I’d risk it. However, now is not the time to be taking risks.

  And yet, I’m living with him.

  I should walk away from this situation right now, but I want the money he promised me, and I don’t want to miss out on spending two weeks with him, dangerous as it is.

  I draw the line at going to bed with him, though.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I can’t.”

  He tilts his head to the side. “You’re a hedonist, except for this.”

  “I wouldn’t call myself a hedonist.”

  He breaks off a small piece of a warm chocolate chip cookie. He holds it up to my lips, and I eat the cookie from his hand.

  I moan in bliss.

  He swallows hard. I’m thankful he isn’t kissing me again, but on the other hand, I’m devastated he isn’t kissing me again.

  I put two cookies on a plate. “I need some time alone. I’ll be in the guest room.”

  I can feel his eyes on me as I walk down the hall.

  * * *

  It’s Monday morning, and I’m glad I have to work today. It’ll be good to have some time apart from Julian after what happened yesterday.

  Right now, we’re eating breakfast together like a married couple, but soon I’ll be on my way. Julian has already worked out and showered, his hair slightly wet.

  I want to touch it, but I don’t.

  He has a gym in his penthouse, and I peeked inside while he was lifting weights. Not gonna lie, it was pretty hot, his muscles rippling under his T-shirt. He saw me standing at the door and winked at me, and I nearly asked if he’d consider working out shirtless, but thankfully, I managed to keep my mouth shut.

  Now I’m eating Cheerios, and he’s eating some kind of freaky high-protein cereal.

  “Is that stuff any good?” I ask.

  He slides his bowl toward me. “Try it.”

  I take a bite and grimace. “It tastes like hamster food.”

  “Does it?”

  I nod. “It does.”

  “How do you know what hamster food tastes like?”

  Oh, this is embarrassing.

  “We had a pet hamster when I was a kid. I thought the food pellets looked tasty and figured if the hamster could eat it, why couldn’t I?”

  He doubles over in laughter. I’m glad the story made him laugh, and I can’t help joining in.

  “Julian?” says an unfamiliar female voice.

  I immediately sit up straight and force myself to stop laughing. Why the hell is there another woman in his condo?

  I turn to see an older white woman, and I breathe out a sigh of relief. This must be his housekeeper.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “I wouldn’t have let myself in if I’d known you had company.”

  “Don’t worry, it’s fine,” he says. “Courtney is heading off to work in a few minutes. Courtney, this is Elena, my housekeeper.”

  “It’s not what you’re thinking,” I say. “We’re just friends.”

  I think of that kiss.

  Right. Just friends.

  Keep telling yourself that, Courtney.

  Elena rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t born yesterday. If Julian has a guest at eight o’clock in the morning, she’s not just a friend.”

  I’m not sure how to respond.

  “Courtney’s working for me,” Julian says. “I went into the office on Friday because I didn’t know what to do with myself. I need to figure out how to have fun, and she’s helping me with that.”

  “Uh-huh,” Elena says. “If that’s what you kids call it these days.”

  She heads to another part of the penthouse, and a moment later, I hear the vacuum cleaner. I assume she’s trying to give us some privacy.

  I push Julian’s bowl of hamster food back toward him and have one last bite of Cheerios.

  “I take my second career as a how-to-enjoy-life coach very seriously,” I say. “I will be checking up on you throughout the day, and you better not be in the middle of putting on a suit to head to a meeting, okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he says, suppressing a smile.

  I stand up. It’s time for me to leave, but it doesn’t feel right to leave, not like this. There’s something missing.

  I bend over and kiss him on the lips. I intend for it to be a quick peck, but once I feel the sweet pressure of his lips against mine, I need more. I open for him, and he takes that as an invitation. One of his arms slides around my back, his hand slipping through my hair, and I moan against him.

  I miss kissing.

  It’s only a kiss—what can it hurt? I showed incredible restraint by not walking into the gym earlier, removing his sweaty T-shirt, and dropping to my knees. I deserve a reward.

  “Have a good day,” I say, pulling back.

  “You, too,” he murmurs.

  I’ll be thinking about him all day.

  Chapter 13

  Julian

  My phone beeps at ten in the morning, and I smile when I see it’s a text from Courtney.

  What are you up to? she asks.

  Baking lemon squares so I have something to feed my family when they come over, I reply.

  Your family’s visiting today? You didn’t tell me.

  They didn’t say anything, but I know they’re coming.

  There’s a zero percent chance I won’t get a surprise visit from either Vince or my mother today, if not my entire family. I suppose it’s not really a surprise if I know it’s coming, but I don’t know when it’ll happen, and I intend to be r
eady. As soon as Courtney left for work, I looked up a bunch of recipes online then headed to the grocery store to buy ingredients.

  By lunchtime, I’ve made lemon squares and lemon rosemary shortbread. When Courtney texts to check up on me again, I send her a picture of the baked goods.

  Marry me, she says.

  I stare at the text message, wondering how to reply.

  I’m kidding, she adds a moment later. I can’t believe you baked all that when you’ve only baked once before in your life. How are you so good at everything?

  Save the compliments until you’ve tried them. Want me to bring a lemon square to the lab now?

  You already packed two chocolate chip cookies in my lunch. I think that’s enough.

  Yes, I did pack her lunch this morning. A sandwich and carrot sticks and the cookies we made yesterday.

  I’m becoming quite domestic, much to Elena’s amusement.

  I really do want to visit Courtney at work, though. First of all, because I’m running out of ideas for how to entertain myself. And second of all, because I desperately want another kiss.

  I was pleasantly surprised when she kissed me goodbye this morning, and although it was only a brief kiss, it was hardly chaste, and I’ve been replaying it in my mind all morning. Normally, I’d be able to wrestle control of my thoughts, but I can’t seem to do that today. I have no work to occupy me, and Courtney Kwan captivates me like no one else.

  * * *

  At two o’clock, I’m reading on my rooftop patio, a couple of lemon squares—I really did a great job with those, if I do say so myself—and a beer on the table beside me.

  “Hey.”

  I jump at Elena’s voice.

  “If you don’t need anything else, I’m heading out now,” she says.

  “Sure.”

  “And your brother’s here.”

  Of course he is.

  I sit up and look into Vince’s smirking face.

  “I never thought I’d see the day,” he says. “You, reading and drinking a beer in the middle of the afternoon. Enjoying the sunshine.”

  “It’s only one beer,” I say, suddenly defensive, “and I’m under the umbrella and I still put on sunscreen, so I’m not going to get burnt.”

  “Glad to hear you haven’t really changed.” He picks up my beer. “Labatt 50? Seriously?”

  “What’s wrong with Labatt 50?”

  “It’s an old man beer, but I guess that’s appropriate, seeing as you usually have about as much fun as an old man.”

  “Thanks for the compliment.”

  He shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “I just came to give you a heads-up. Mom and Po Po should be here any minute.”

  “You told them, didn’t you?”

  “Told them what? That you have a new girlfriend and she’s living with you? Why, yes, I did. I like Courtney, by the way. She sent me all sorts of pictures from your fun weekend together—I particularly enjoyed the picture of Joey the Phallic Cactus. I can’t wait to see the results of your private scrapbooking lessons. And apparently you’re getting a pedicure?”

  “I did not agree to that. I told her I’d think about it. Why are you and Courtney suddenly best buddies? And how are you texting her now that I have my phone back?”

  “She sent me her number before she returned your phone.” Vince studies me for a moment. “You’re still too tense.”

  “Maybe that has something to do with your presence.”

  He ignores my comment. “You’re not getting laid yet, are you? If you’re determined to keep things platonic with Courtney, at least let me—”

  “Stop trying to arrange orgies for me!”

  “Yeah, you definitely need to get laid.”

  “I want to,” I mutter, “but she’s not interested.”

  Well, she’s clearly attracted to me, and she makes pretty damn erotic noises when she kisses me, plus I can’t imagine she’d have anything against having sex just for fun. But she says she can’t, and she won’t tell me why.

  Vince finds this hilarious. “You need serious help with women.”

  “May I remind you that I’m the one who’s had several relationships in the past ten years, whereas you haven’t had a girlfriend since Deanna?”

  “I...” He shakes his head.

  My brother, at a loss for words. Huh.

  As I’m pondering this unusual situation, I hear some banging noises in my condo, so I head downstairs with my book and half-finished beer.

  Mom and Po Po are here.

  “Julian!” Mom says. “There you are.”

  I pull out the containers of cookies and lemon squares. I arrange them on a platter and start the kettle for tea.

  Vince is back to his usual smirking self. “Wow. Courtney wasn’t lying when she said you’d been baking.”

  “You made these?” Mom asks. “Not Elena?”

  “I did.”

  Po Po grabs a lemon square and takes a bite. “Pretty good. Your girlfriend helped you?”

  “Just with the chocolate chip cookies. I made the rest myself.” Then I register her words. “Courtney isn’t my girlfriend.”

  “She’s living with you, yes? Sounds like a girlfriend to me.”

  I don’t know why I’m arguing when there’s no chance of me convincing my family that I do not have a girlfriend, not after Vince put that idea in their heads.

  The water boils. I make a pot of jasmine tea and bring it to the dining room table, along with the platter of cookies and squares. I return to the kitchen for my bottle of beer.

  “This is your fourth day off work,” Mom says, “and you’ve already gotten a girlfriend and learned to bake?”

  “He’s efficient even in his time off,” Vince says.

  Po Po taps my bottle of beer. “Do not approve of this.” She clucks her tongue. “If you’re not careful, you will turn into Vince.”

  “Hey!” he says. “What’s wrong with me?”

  I’m about to answer, but then my grandmother lifts the beer to her lips. We all watch, wide-eyed, as she chugs the rest of the bottle.

  “There,” she says proudly. “Now you can’t drink it.”

  “There are twenty-three more bottles in the fridge,” I say.

  “You bought a two-four of Labatt 50?” Vince laughs. “God, you are such an old man. And Po Po, that was impressive. But why is it okay for you to drink beer in the middle of the afternoon, and not for us?”

  “Am eighty-nine.” She points to herself. “Could drop dead any minute. Doesn’t matter what I do anymore.”

  “Ma,” my mother says, “will you please stop talking about dropping dead?”

  “Why? It’s true. But it would be nice to have great-grandchildren first.”

  “I’m sorry to tell you this,” I say, “but there’s a good chance you won’t get any great-grandchildren, unless Vince forgets to use protection when he’s high on drugs.”

  My brother discreetly gives me the middle finger.

  “I’m not counting on Vince,” she says, “but you. You have nice girlfriend now, yes? Vince says she’s nice. Chinese girl with PhD. Sounds like good match.”

  I sigh. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  “Just to be clear,” Mom says, “we don’t care if she’s Chinese. It’s not important, as long as you love her.”

  “I care,” Po Po says. “Just a little.”

  “You’re old-fashioned.”

  “Am eighty-nine and could drop dead any minute! Am allowed to be old-fashioned.” Po Po turns to me. “If you have girlfriend who is not Chinese, it’s okay. Still happy for you. But I think it’s better this way. Where is she?” Po Po looks around.

  “Unlike me,” I say, “Courtney isn’t taking two weeks off work. She’s at the lab.”

  “Where does she work?” Mom asks.

  “At U of T.”

  “Will she quit when you marry?” Po Po asks. “Stay home to take care of babies?”

  Dammit. Drinking beer and eati
ng lemon squares alone on the patio was a much better way of spending the afternoon than facing an inquisition about the girlfriend I do not have.

  “There won’t be any babies, not if Julian can’t seal the deal,” Vince says.

  “Seal the deal?” Po Po frowns. “What does this mean?”

  My family insisted I take time off so I wouldn’t burn out, but now they’re insisting on driving me up the wall.

  “Stop it. All of you. For the last time, Courtney is not my girlfriend. Even if she were, I just met her on Friday, and it would be way too soon to start talking about marriage and babies, okay? Why can’t you all leave me alone to drink my old man beer in peace?”

  There’s a moment of silence.

  And then my phone beeps.

  Vince swipes it off the table and reads the message. “Courtney wants to make sure you haven’t cracked and gone into work.”

  “I’ve definitely cracked,” I mutter.

  He scrolls through our message history. “Ooh, listen to this! She asked him to marry her.”

  “She did not—I mean, that was a joke.”

  Vince shrugs. “Details, details.”

  I grab my phone back before any more damage can be done.

  “I want to meet her,” Po Po says. “Not leaving until she gets here.”

  Mom nods in agreement. “I’m very curious.”

  “Hey, I’ve got nothing else to do,” Vince says, reaching for a cookie. “I’ll stay, too, even though I’ve already met her.”

  Since I don’t see any way out of this, I text Courtney and ask if she can leave work early.

  * * *

  Courtney arrives before four o’clock, which is incredible. I’ve never gotten home from work anywhere close to four o’clock.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmur as I meet her at the door.

  “That’s okay,” she says, slipping off her shoes. “Hey, Vince.”

  He comes over and they give each other a hug. I can’t say I’m too fond of that.

  “How’s Joey the Phallic Cactus?” he asks. “I hear he’s staying in your room.”

  Po Po struggles to her feet. “I know what a cactus is, but what is phallic cactus?”

  “Forget about it, Ma,” Mom mutters. “It’s not important.”